Never Surrender
by Alexandra P. Useless
Summary: The legend of Jack Sparrow will dissapear, tonight. Will sink away from existance. WARNING: Possibility of Character Death. Now under construction to comply with DMC
1. Prologue

** So here's the boring stuff;**

**Save for Dustin Peterson, all characters in this work of fiction bellong strictly to Disney. **

**The Song inspiring and later contained within bellongs to Corey Hart.**

**-  
**

**So here's the story behind the story. **

**I saw some fanart online of Jacksparrow over six months ago. It was a rather lovely devianation with a very angsty theme. Part of the pic was the lyrics to the song 'Never Surrender', by Cory Hart. The plot of the fanart ((single picture, not a comic)) was not at all similar to the plot I'll have going in this story. **

** This story came after I lay in my bed one night contemplating the lyrics and watching Pirates of the Carribean. **

** (http/ -That's the fanart that made me think about the connection between Sparrow and Corey Hart.**

** -**

**So here's the deal.**

** I've never written anything outside of Toad fiction. I hope none of the writers from the X-men comunity feel as if I've betrayed them by committing to another story when I've already left so many others unfinished. **

** Please go easy on me, Jack will be a bit out of character and will have little first-person coverage untill the later chapters, but he's still the main character here. Trust me. **

**-**

**An now on for the show. **

* * *

T'was a pirate that gave himself to the wind.

To the wind.

To the sea.

To death.

_To Davy Jones._

T'was a pirate that winced as a thousand and two needles replaced the waves and attacked every inch of flesh on his body, dragging him under.

T'was a pirate that re-surfaced seconds later, coughing and sputtering against intrusive salt water, wrapping his arm about a bit of floating debris, laying his cheek on the splintered wood.

T'was a pirate that closed his eyes against the screams that he left behind him.

-That closed his eyes against the burning '_Pearl'. _

T'was a scallywag that threatened to pass out soon after, left at the mercy of the sea, or the wind, of the storm that was to come and the current that might or might not carry him to friendlier waters.

T'was a coward that escaped death that day, floating away from his perishing crew and his sinking ship.

And as he glimpsed his last of the black sailed ship, Jack Sparrow felt bile rise in his throat, even as blackness tickled at the edge of his vision. He had surrendered his crew, and his ship, to their deaths.

And when he finally gave himself to the darkness, _surrendered_ himself to the loss, he didn't struggle against reality.

The legend of Jack Sparrow floated away that night.

Surrendered.

* * *

**This was the prologue. I'll post more later if I get some reviews. See that button at the bottom of the page that says 'submit review'? Spoil me. Click it. **

**With love, Alexandra P. Useless **


	2. Chapter 1

Commodore Norrington hadn't slept in the last thirty two hours.

He and his men had been to hell and back of late, investigating reports of a new threat of piracy, focused in one area, within a three mile radius surrounding an ancient, unnamed island. A small group of merchant ships had been attacked scarcely two weeks past. Three had sank, two come too close to the well concealed reefs surrounding the island, and set to flame by the raiders. They were unaccounted for, still. The last of the tiny fleet had escaped, and brought the news of their loss to Port Royal.

Now, Commodore Norrington wanted nothing more than an hour's slumber in his quarters, despite the obvious daylight outside.

Slumped comfortably into his cot, he had only just closed his eyes when -

"Commodore Norrington! We've spotted wreckage from another ship, sir!" James Norrington groaned, heaving himself back up and out of his cramped quarters, pulling his wig and hat back into proper array.

His first mate, Johnston, was at his side in an instant, his lips aflap with gibberish about a sixth ship having been discovered. Wiping traces of sleep from his eyes, Norrington came to the rail, gripping the smooth wood as he peered our over the water.

"It doesn't appear to be a merchant ship, sir," trilled Johnston, still standing faithfully at his side. "We've seen very little cargo. It seems it's been thoroughly stripped."

Norrington restrained a fiendish snap as irritability begun to set in. The ship was easily a hundred yards off, and he doubted highly that his men had surveyed the damage that quickly. Gullible little man, Johnston was. Still green.

Instead, he trained his eyes upon the floating debris.

"Any survivors to be seen?"

"None, sir. Not yet."

"Bodies?"

"Three. They've not been retrieved yet, sir."

"Leave them," murmured Norrington, his eyes glued to the mast of the ship, still floating as it was.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

Norrington was silent for a moment, watching the tattered sails, billowing eerily in the water. The sky was clouded over, and the fire - for the ship had been set a-torch - might have been responsible, but he doubted his eyes were lying to him.

_Black sails. _

"Leave them, Johnston. There is no need to retrieve the bodies of pirates. Take note, though," he gripped the railing, his lips twitching with a faint smile "-for this will be the first and last time you lay eyes upon _The Black Pearl._"

Johnston fairly gaped at the statement, staring now at the floating wreckage with a new perspective. "Well blow me - The _Pearl's _ been pirated. Never thought I'd see the day."

"In most cases in life, Henry," Norrington addressed him by his first name "there will almost always be a younger, more powerful opposer to smite it's predecessor. This rule does not over look pirate kind in -"

"Man overboard! Starboard side!"

Norrington, cut off in mid sentence, raced to the adjacent side of the deck, glaring down upon the tangle of wood, cloth, and flesh his sailors were struggling to haul aboard.

Something…. Familiar…

He traveled down a single flight of stairs - The _Dauntless _having several of them - and tried a second look; The pirate - for what else could it be? - was aboard the ship now, sprawled and sending rivulets of water across the deck. He was still a level down. The lowest deck. As Norrington came to level with the sailors hovering over the sopping pirate, he felt an all too familiar plunge within his stomach.

With a guttural groan, he shoved a sailor aside, glaring down at a thoroughly soaked-

"Mr. Sparrow..."

TBC


	3. Chapter 2

** UPDATE!**

**I need to hear your voices on this! Having just seen Dead Man's Chest, I'm tempted to twist this story to comply with that plot. I can go either way, but I need you all to review and vote on it! I could also write both versions of the story with the same introduction. ****If you want an idea of what either plot would involve, simply email or IM me on AIM.**

**Email: a guitar untuned**

**Have at it! **

* * *

The pirate, thoroughly drenched and bedraggled, made no move to correct Norrington's addressing him with out _Captain_ prior to his name. He was unconscious, his skin pale in a manner that might have been cause for concern had Norrington not possessed certain dislike for the man.

The last time he had seen this distasteful creature, he had been positioned behind the man that had robbed him of a wife. A wife he still had a rather boyish affection for, truth be told.

_Jack Sparrow_. He was aware of a particularly bad taste in the back of his mouth. -But he knew Elizabeth's affection's for the rascal.

"Where is the surgeon, Henry?" he questioned

"Here, sir."

It was a sharp, directed voice that announced the arrival of the newest addition to Norrington's crew.

Dustin Peterson was a short, yet powerful young man, swift of hand. His eyes, though enlarged slightly by a pair of spectacles, were sharp, adding to his skill. He pushed past the two sailors that had fished Sparrow out of the sea and knelt beside the him, instantly pealing the man's shirt back slightly and setting an ear to his chest.

"He's inhaled a lot of water, sir," murmured Peterson, working his palms into Sparrow's midsection, applying a great deal of pressure. When the pirate turned to one side, expelling copious amounts of water from his lips, Peterson continued to examine, pealing the shirt off entirely to reveal a length of cloth, wrapped crudely about his abdomen. Using a small pair of scissors from his medical bag, he cut away the cloth, now recognizable of a sorry excuse for a bandage.

"-And he's been injured."

His hand came away from Sparrow's skin coated with red.

Norrington nodded, moderately interested.

"It's not a sword wound - Splinters of wood, see here?"

The wound was only just bellow his lungs; A lucky man, Sparrow was. Peterson winced, prodding at the wound. Sparrow visibly flinched.

"I can't clean it here- He needs to be restrained. I'll have to get a better idea of how grievous the wound is."

Norrington nodded- "You may treat him in the brig - where all prisoners are contained, Mr. Peterson," he stressed the word _prisoner_. "He _will_ be in prime condition for the gallows, Mr. Peterson. Is that understood?"

Peterson, a mite too compassionate towards even the vilest of scallywags, glanced to him for a fraction of a second, and Norrington was sure he registered in that amber eyed gaze a hint of defiance.

Disgust, even.

"_Is that understood,_ Mr. Peterson?"

"Crystal, sir."


End file.
